


A Pleasant Red

by Shatterpath



Series: Pyramid [2]
Category: Reba (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Adorkable Danvers, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, First Dates, Flirting, Gift Fic, Susan got game, crackfluff, favorite background character, vasquez makes fic better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: A ginger stranger, the dark russet of a woman she would have never approached, the blush she never would have expected.As inspired by the gif set of Susan Vasquez from @singinpricess and the awesome comment/microfic from @bridgetteirishhttp://shatterpath.tumblr.com/post/154585129918/bridgetteirish-singinprincess-gif-request GO LOOK FIRST. IT WILL MAKE THIS FIC SO MUCH BETTER.Takes place over the months of September through December 2015





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheOnlySPL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlySPL/gifts).



> The choice of redhead is 100% based on singinprincess being a fan of the 'Reba' tv show. While I'm meh about it, my partner likes it and have seen more than enough eps to get a rough feel for the characters. I like this 'verse enough now that I'm eyeing expanding it. Be afraid.
> 
> This took on a few twists in the second part that left me intrigued. I love the idea of Susan being something to the Danvers sisters, it just works for me. This story let me touch on that.
> 
> Merry Christmas, SPL, you are a true sunbeam, sweetie.
> 
> EDIT: (1-15-17) So, I've been debating making this part of my Pyramid 'verse, and I'm now making it official. So, be prepared to see Kyra again!

Susan Vasquez took things very seriously. 

She was dedicated, loyal, accomplished and dangerous.

That didn't mean she wasn't capable of tripping over her own feet when confronted with a pretty girl.

Sprawled out in the fall sunshine where she'd fallen, Susan decided to stay down for a minute to make it look like she meant to do that. A tumble into the damp grass had done little more than bruise her ego, but it had also made the gorgeous guitarist pause a moment before the music started up again. 

There may have also been a chuckle that carried over the distance, Susan wasn't sure.

It became a strange routine after that. 

Every morning that work didn't impinge on-- and that was about one in three-- Susan was up at five, rolling into her workout clothes with military efficiency, and was out the door. The slap of her feet against concrete and the beat-beat-beat cadence of her strong body into the long run was soothing and invigorating. She had built fourteen routes into her extensive mental map, because habits made for ambushes; though lately her deeply ingrained paranoia was being swamped over by the ridiculous crush she was doing her best to ignore.

And failing miserably.

For three weeks, she'd thrown caution to the winds and found herself jogging past the quiet little glade where the guitarist was strumming away more often than not. The first time her brassy alto voice had carried through the peaceful morning air, Susan had stumbled again, but at least not fallen down. The first time the tune had suddenly changed to 'Eye of the Tiger' and yesterday, 'Physical', she had nearly stumbled a third damn time.

Was the pretty redhead flirting with her?

Taking the longest route on her map, Susan tried to convince herself to not be an idiot, to avoid the park, to get back to business. It didn't work. Sighing, she cut across the normally busy street and through a huge parking lot, breathing deep of the pine scent of the Christmas tree lot at the corner. As the park swallowed her up, she took note of her surroundings in preparation of anything even as she enjoyed the peace. Her disappointment in the empty grove was acute and she slowed to a stop, raking sweat-damp hair away from her eyes.

"Actor, Olympic athlete or cop," called a woman's voice, warm and amused. Whipping around, Susan was confronted by the guitarist striding towards her. "That's my list so far. You're very dedicated. And the most loyal audience I've had yet in National City."

"Well, you're good," Susan managed to say in a reasonably normal tone. "And FBI."

That earned a deeper grin that transformed the sweet face to something sexier and set sky blue eyes to twinkling. "So, super-cop then."

It should have been annoying, but Susan was charmed… and a bit smitten. 

\----

From then on, Susan left a few minutes early so that she could spend them with the enticing musician. In turn, the younger woman always seemed to have a treat on hand; water sweetened with a faint hint of citrus and exotic fruit blends low in acid for her hardworking stomach and, finally, as Christmas grew closer, a watery chocolate drink that was surprisingly tasty.

"No milk product for while you're working so hard," Kyra explained as she recapped the battered metal thermos to be tossed back into her voluminous bag. "I had a girlfriend in college who was sensitive like that. So I stole her recipe."

Her name was Kyra Hart, middle of three, with a couple of much younger step-siblings, who missed her big, obnoxious, noisy family at least as much as she was happy to be away from them. She was sly and smart and sarcastic and was never as alive as when the music poured from her throat and hands. Her ginger hair caught stray raindrops just like it did sunbeams, a messy, brassy tangle that Susan had no damn clue where it ended. She was both dreading and looking forward to her third decade, now looming close, and seemed completely unfazed that Susan couldn't talk about her work save the absolute basics.

Their conversations were short but interesting, a few minutes in the cool California mornings where Susan's muscles twitched to be in motion and Kyra's fingers twitched to be back on the strings.

Until Susan sipped at a thin, spicy chocolate still almost uncomfortably hot and wondered over the use of 'girlfriend'. 

"… so, I'll be headed home for Christmas. Not sure when I'll be back. NC's been a frustration."

Slammed back from her thoughts, Susan was taken aback by the alarm that rang through her. "Wait, what? When?"

That dry look should not look so at home on that misleadingly sweet face. "Wednesday, space cadet. Tickets are cheaper in the middle of the week and I promised Jake I'd come in early to meet his new spawn."

"Then we should send you off in style."

One sorrel eyebrow arched curiously and Susan knew there was no turning back now.

"I mean, we never get a chance to really talk and I'd like to. I like you, and these mornings have been the highlight of my days."

That enticing little smirk of smile was downright kissable. "Why, FBI, are you asking me out?"

"Yes?"

It was half question and half assuredness and for the first time, Kyra smiled fully, just a hint of sweet embarrassment dancing in blue eyes. "That sounds great."

\----

With a short timetable, Susan sorted scenarios through her head like lightning strikes, her mind well-trained for such tasks. A few covert text messages to the new number in her phone and they'd worked out a couple of ideas. She'd even managed to remember to type 7pm like a regular person… after deleting 1900 hours.

Somehow she'd slipped away early, despite Danvers' relentless work ethic. Traffic was a nightmare, reminding Susan why there were nights where she just stayed in the desert base instead of commuting, but it would be worth it if she could just get home!

Of course, this meant that Murphy's Law struck like a hammer in the form of a nasty pileup that took the traffic from 'turtle' to 'glacial' to 'granite'. Even as Susan debated heading out on foot for the near-distant plume of oily black smoke, a familiar streak of red and blue whipped by overhead. At least that saved her from the entirely unprofessional urge to make a call back to base…

Finally getting home had rarely been such a relief and Susan rushed to roughly strip off her uniform blacks and cringe over her pathetic wardrobe. Honestly, the collection was like something a starving college student would have nightmares about. She really needed to get to laundry one of these days. Stupid alien incursions.

Under the gun now for time, she found a half-hidden stash of her 'business casual' and decided, while she hated the blue blouse, a little color could work in her favor. Quickly mopping off, she dolled herself up a bit for the occasion, never more grateful to have butched her hair off for expediency. A pair of jeans snug enough to not be a regular indulgence and some heeled boots for height and Susan grabbed her necessaries and raced out the door. 

Kyra chuckled warmly as Susan jogged up, as surefooted in chunky heels as she was in sneakers. She was stunning in a soft grey peasant blouse and matching gypsy skirt in a riot of jewel tones. The expansive ginger mane was a waterfall of loose curls nearly to her hip joints that made Susan itch to touch.

"You clean up nice, FBI."

Slightly winded from the change in foot gear, Susan swept into a playful bow. "Traffic was conspiring against me. And why am I always running around you?"

Taking her arm, Kyra dragged them away, not that Susan was fighting her. "Ooo, a conspiracy! How spooky of you."

"Spook, that's a good one. You're mouthy. I like that."

"Good, maybe I can keep you from running for a bit."

"Yeah, don't think that will be a problem."

Even the casual touch on her arm had Susan a bit bamboozled. Really, she needed to be around touchy-feely sorts more often. With several choices on the table, they decided on a classic since the nearby Italian place was highly regarded by locals and foodies alike. It was busy, but neither of them cared, caught up in swapping stories from childhood pets to tacky Netflix obsessions. Both were cracking up even as they were finally taken to a crowded corner and a tiny table to wedge themselves into.

"Your siblings sound like a riot."

"They still are. We get it from Mom. Honestly, I was a terror and a selfish brat who thought she could never get her own way. I have no idea how I even survived to adulthood without Cheyenne smothering me in my sleep."

"Not your mother?" Susan teased and Kyra chuckled wryly.

"No, Mom would have just bluntly dropkicked me off a bridge. And Jake was thankfully so laid back that the red-headed insanity just rolled off of him."

"It sounds wonderful and terrible."

"So does being an only child, so we'll call it even."

As Susan knew from experience that the pizza was mediocre, but the baked ziti was outrageous, Kyra was perfectly happy to take the recommendation, dropping her menu on the table and gesturing for Susan to carry on. Dinner was ordered and they went back to chatting, only interrupted by the arrival of plates of the baked pasta dish, crispy salads and goblets of a red wine so savory it was practically its own course. 

It was a heady combination. And a perfect target for Murphy to take aim at. Halfway through dinner and a second glass of wine, Susan was having a marvelous time… when her phone buzzed urgently. Her whole body freezing into instant alertness was the first time Kyra had seen that this enigmatic stranger, was indeed a well-trained, competent danger. Breathlessly awaiting a second buzz on the heels of the first, Susan was sorely disappointed when it took a few moments, just a single, hard vibration. Work then.

Without a word of explanation, she whipped the phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, busy, dark eyes quickly processing the message there.

-Special incursion. Code Red. All hands on deck. Full formals. Pick up at locations B and E.-

A big one then. "Crap," Susan growled and that was all the confirmation that Kyra needed that the evening was being cut short.

"Well, I kept you from running for a little while, right?" she sassed gently, not meaning the words to harm. Still, Susan's expression was pure, puppy-eyed misery with a side of wary curiosity.

"What, no questions? I have a whole speech prepared about classified info and security clearances and 'they need me'." The wry sass made Kyra grin and echo Susan standing up. 

"Well, I figured I'd avoid the well-meaning and terrible fourth installment of the series entitled, 'I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you.'"

Laughing, Susan paused in checking to ensure she had her things and dropping enough cash to cover dinner and tip. Kyra read it as a silent question and responded by stepping in close so that Susan could drop a shy kiss on her cheek.

"I promise, I'm sick of the running too."

It was exactly the right, sweet thing to say and Kyra grabbed her left hand, still holding the phone. "Unlock it?" Curious, Susan did so, tapping the screen to minimize the emergency message even as Kyra shifted so that she could cradle hand and device alike. With quick thumbs, she had added information to her entry before startling Susan with a warm, promising smooch. "I look forward to picking this up again, Susan."

"Me too, Kyra."

It took real effort to race away.

\----

Exhausted, Susan slumped against the walls of the DEO chopper with the rest of the filthy, stinking hordes and cringed when reaching up to rub her eyes brought the stench far too close.

"Bet you're not missing the field work now, huh?" Alex chortled, still hopped up on adrenaline and Susan resisted the half-annoyed and half-amused urge to kick her in the butt. Possibly right out the open door, since Supergirl was clearly visible alongside the helicopter.

"Did you specifically order up something that smelled this bad just to convince me to stay in the command center?"

"Well seeing as you're all fancied up." 

Susan looked down where her blue blouse was peeking out from the loosened flak vest and her good boots were pretty much ruined, and decided that she couldn't let the sass stand, rank be damned.

"I figure at least one of us should be getting some, Danvers," she drawled with enough suggestiveness to be slightly inappropriate. "Might as well be me." 

To a smattering of chuckles from the other agents, Alex settled into what would almost be a sulk if everyone there hadn't been subjected Kara's epic pouting skills at some point. Not for the first time, Susan wondered if that hint of shy… something in Alex's expression could be something worth pursuing, but as always, protocol won out. Nudging Alex's foot with her heel, Susan nodded to the small space beside her.

"Sit, willya? You're making the rest of us look bad."

It was the only way she could think of to get the other woman to sit down before the high wore off and she fell down. Grumbling, Alex slammed the door shut and flopped down heavily, stretching her legs out into the tangle of sprawled limbs of the exhausted squad. Susan was one of the few she ever let her guard down with, a privilege that Susan was well aware of, and very thankful for. She liked Danvers. She liked both Danvers, to be honest. They were good people, some of the best even. That they were both very easy on the eyes and fun to be around was merely a bonus. Doing her best to ignore the way Alex was slowly leaning heavily against her shoulder and the way the darkly red hair splayed across the black fabric, Susan dug out her phone, hoping that 11:24pm wasn't too late to text a working musician. She noted that Kyra had added to her entry, an address beneath the phone number, which gave her an idea. Tapping out, 'I'm alive and well, hope your night is going well,' she sent the message and did a quick net search to arrange flowers to be delivered the next day. A single deeply pink rose in a bundle of random, pretty organic things seemed like a solid choice.

"Flowers?" Alex asked sleepily and Susan nearly growled as titters of amusement sounded off over the muffled racket of the chopper.

"I wasn't dressed up for you," she snarked, not meaning the words as harshly as she suspected they sounded. "I was on a date."

She felt bad when Alex immediately half sat up, not leaning so heavily now, her expression embarrassed and distant. "Sorry," was all she mumbled, the easygoing banter gone now. Annoyed with herself for snapping, Susan knew that a public apology would only piss Danvers off and made a 'Do Not Forget' mental note to corner her later. Not that the momentary awkwardness stopped Alex from slumping back trustingly into Susan's side, their helmeted heads bracing one another.

The last leg of the flight was a peaceful quiet, and the chopper falling into a landing pattern had the DEO agents stirring back to life. An exaggerated stretch jostled Alex awake where she'd mostly fallen asleep and she fumbled to her feet. By the time the chopper bounced lightly to the tarmac, the entire squad was alert and geared up and in formation. They spilled out of the lowering hatch as though a live enemy awaited them and swarmed the second helicopter. Decades of experience had taught the DEO to never assume, even about a dead alien.

As always, Supergirl was a misleadingly slim shock of color amidst their heavy blacks, her blonde locks whipping in the wind from the rotors. Despite the slimy thing's sheer bulk, they dragged it out of the heavy chopper, its landing gear groaning for mercy. Leaving the corpse to the science teams who swarmed it like ants, the strike team trooped off wearily towards the locker rooms.

"Yuck," Kara complained as she stretched the slimy goo between her open palms. "I hope this washes out of the suit."

Alex only snorted at her, already stripping off her vest to drag it along. "I'm sure your personal nerd squad would be insulted that you disbelieved they wouldn't design easy clean up into your uniform." The teasing sneer on the last word earned the sort of outraged splutter that could only come from a younger sibling, slighted.

"If you were smart, you'd hire Winn, Alex! And it's not like I can get this dry-cleaned." The sneer was a perfect duplicate of Alex's and Susan could not contain her warble of pure amusement. The other three women agents managed to contain themselves to coughs and a single, strangled laugh.

Of course, when Susan perused her locker, the laundry catastrophe continued. There was nothing there but a slightly questionable pair of sweat pants and a half-empty plastic sack of brand new socks. Yep, there would be no sleep for her tonight, just a trip to the laundromat. In the meantime…

Luckily the armor had kept her blouse clean and Alex tossed her a bottle of blue Dawn to scrub up with as best she could in the sinks while those with actual clean clothes hit the showers. So Susan made due, sudsing off the slime and filth until her hands ached and her forearms were flushed. Miraculously, the shirt seemed intact and stench-free aside from an incongruous whiff of oily smoke. With the dark sweats and clean socks and boots scrubbed off as well as could be expected, Susan felt almost normal again. Even more amazing was that she still looked nicely done up, particularly once she fluffed out the helmet-hair. Oh, she probably wouldn't pass muster at a fancy place, but that generally wasn't her style anyway.

The P.A. announced that transport back to National City would be leaving in five minutes. Susan wasn't the only one who had been unceremoniously yanked from evening plans. Grabbing her things, she slammed her locker shut and hustled towards the hanger, plowing right into someone in her distraction. It was Kara-- of course it was-- feeling like feminine softness wrapped around titanium and as unmovable as the stone wall. At least Susan managed to keep her feet and not go sprawling, her dignity only slightly crumpled.

"Oh! I'm sorry…"

Waving off the apology, Susan grinned and retrieved her hand where she'd grabbed the red cape for balance. The material was heavy like siliconized heavy silk and as whispery soft as flower petals or a baby's cheeks. Fascinating…

"No, that one is on me. Just in a hurry to get home."

"Me too."

There was something suspiciously flustered in the Kryptonian's voice that made Susan hesitate, despite her time crunch. "Good job tonight," she said impulsively, wanting to bring a little warmth to this lonely woman who had lost everything long ago. Instantly, Kara brightened with a slightly shy smile and she twisted at the towel in her hands. "And blue Dawn will take the rest of that stuff off. Your sister is brilliant like that."

"Of course she is," Kara sighed in fond exasperation in response to the teasing words. Chuckling, Susan shifted her center of gravity, prepared to beat feet, but paused at Kara's quiet voice. "You look really nice, Vasquez… um, Susan."

Honestly, the universe had outdone itself when it created the Danvers sisters, all stubborn heroism and sweet softness. A rare, toothy smile warmed Susan's expression that clearly bolstered their in-house superhero's odd shyness and brought out the faint blush on her fair cheeks. 

"Thank you, Kara."

It was almost taboo, that personal name she brought with her from the stars, too rarely spoken in conjunction with the coat of arms worn proudly on her chest. Her clear delight in the brief chat and hearing her name warmed Susan enough that she was the flustered one then, nodding warmly in farewell and racing off down the side corridor to barely catch a ride home.

Laundry was a pleasantly mundane task in the deepest hours of night, a welcome solitude, and Susan poured herself into bed, satisfied with her day even if her date had been cut short.

And if she grinned and blushed with sleepy satisfaction at the excited text message she got early in the AM, having blown off her usual routine for the morning, Susan wasn't telling.

**Author's Note:**

> The ficlet from the inspirational Tumblr post:  
> Ok but, one of these gifs is not like the other.  
> In all the other gifs, she’s rocking her standard issue DEO black polyblends.  
> But in the bottom left, she’s got on a blouse, her hair’s done up, she’s got eyelashes for days.  
> Where were you, Susan? Before being called in to track down aliens for Supergirl?  
> Did you have a date? Did you finally work up the courage to ask out that pretty redhead you see on your morning run every day? Did you at least make it through appetizers before you had to make up some secret excuse for needing to run off?  
> I hope you were properly mysterious. I hope you gave her a line about “classified info”, “security clearance”, and “they need me.” I hope you kissed her on the cheek and paid for her cab home and bought her really expensive apology flowers the next day.  
> And when Alex Danvers gave you hell about coming in all dressed up, I hope you leaned over the desk and looked her in the eye and said, “I figure at least one of us should be getting some, Danvers. Might as well be me.” And strode away in your heeled boots.  
> And I really hope that as you and Supergirl were both leaving the DEO to crash at your respective apartments that Supergirl leaned over and with a blushing smile said, “You look really nice, Vasquez.”  
> And I hope you blushed too.


End file.
